


Liar’s Poker

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curry has to emulate Heyes' talent with storytelling to clear his friend of cattle rustling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar’s Poker

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ride 'Em, Cowboy! #1

Kid Curry struggled against the double bite of the cold air and the cold metal as he wrapped the barbed wire around the fence post. Flurries of snow fell softly around him and the tools and materials piled at his feet, rounding hard edges with a soft mantle of white. It didn’t seem to be accumulating at enough of a rate to add much to the inches already on the frozen ground. Still, mending fences in a snowfall was not his choice of the ideal occupation.

He moved to the next post, checking the tension of the wire as he walked. His horse nudged him, blowing her warm breath across the back of his neck. The Kid paused to give her a friendly pat.

“I know, girl. I’m cold, too. We’re almost done here, then it’s a nice, warm barn and a bucket of oats. Quittin’ time’s early today; it’s Saturday.”

The Kid continued checking the fence. It was a lonely job with just the mare for company. He wasn’t used to working on his own. He generally had Heyes to talk to. Or rather listen to… Heyes tended to prefer the talking end of the conversation. At the moment, though, Heyes was rounding up strays with one of the other ranch hands on another part of the spread where they’d found work. It didn’t do to let the cattle roam too far in this weather, when they could too easily freeze or starve.

Heyes and Curry tried to avoid ranch work if they could help it. Beggars could not be choosers, however. Their current flat-busted condition had prompted them to take what was available. As soon as they made enough travelling money they’d hit the road again—preferably one heading south out of this winter cold. Maybe it would be sooner if Heyes could parlay some of their earnings into poker winnings.

Curry finished checking the fence. Time to head back. As soon as he was in the saddle, he could feel the mare’s eagerness to be off. She knew they were headed home. He held her back, though. This light layer of snow was just enough to make the going treacherous. Better to keep a slow pace.

Even so, as they navigated a rocky patch, the horse slipped. Unable to maintain her footing on the slick surface, she fell to the side. Curry kicked free of the stirrups and somehow managed to avoid falling under her. She was up immediately, nervously stepping and blowing. He was up again, too, reaching for the bridle, speaking to her in a calming tone, checking her over. She seemed unharmed, just shaken. Only then did he think of himself.

He quickly took stock of his own condition. He felt bruised along his left side where he’d fallen. Nothing too bad. Only when he took a step did he register the pain in his left ankle. He could put his weight on it; it just seemed somewhat tender. He didn’t think it was sprained; he’d probably just twisted it a little.

Curry considered they were both lucky to have come out of this with nothing worse. He carefully remounted and continued the journey back to the barn without further incident.

The mare was patently grateful to reach her cozy stall. The Kid unsaddled her, rubbed her down, and made sure she had plenty to eat before he limped over to the bunkhouse to see to his own comfort.

He entered to the sound of his partner’s voice weaving a colorful adventure for the enthralled listeners.

“After those varmints bushwhacked me and robbed me of all my poker winnings,” Heyes was saying, “they tied me up and left me for dead. Prob’ly figured if the thirst didn’t get me the lizards would.”

“Lizards? What are you talkin’ about? How could some little ol’ lizards hurt ya?” the questions spilled forth from the attentive audience.

The Kid leaned against the wall near the door and watched the proceedings with a grin. He’d heard it before, but Heyes’ stories were always entertaining no matter how many times he’d told them. They were polished and embellished with each telling and besides, half the fun was in watching a new group of listeners fall under his spell.

Heyes waited for the questions to subside, then took up the tale again. “Why, not ordinary lizards, no. ‘Cept these weren’t no ordinary little lizards. I’d heard tell the lizards in that part o’ the country were so big they were maneaters. Swallow a body in one gulp, they could.

“It was lookin’ like I was gonna find out if the stories were true firsthand, if ya get my drift. I pulled and twisted on those ropes till my wrists were bloody, but they held tight. Those fellas knew how to tie a knot.” He paused as though reflecting on the memory.

One of the cowhands, impatient at the interruption, prompted, “So then what happened?”

“Then,” Heyes resumed, “why, then a flock of vultures come to my rescue.”

“Vultures!” Everyone began to murmur and marvel.

“Frettin’ so hard over the thought of being lizard bait had kinda made me forget about what else might be out there, but a passel of ‘em showed up, flappin’ and squawkin’. It was the blood on the ropes,” Heyes explained. “The smell attracted them. I’d about given up and was lying still. Mighta fallen into a kind of doze. Those buzzards musta taken me for lunch. I woke up to feel ‘em pecking at my wrists behind my back. They pecked right through the ropes. I tell ya I didn’t waste no time shooin’ ‘em away. I was free and wasn’t about to hang around for no vulture feast. I was puzzled how I was going to make it outta that desolate spot, though.”

He paused again, considering. The men were all on the edges of their seats. Heyes knew how to play an audience like fish on a line, reflected the Kid.

“Well? Wha’d ya do?” came the breathless question.

“Why, I took the rope I untied from around my ankles and I lassoed me a pronghorn antelope,” Heyes modestly revealed. “Rode it bareback to the nearest town. I tell you, those critters are fast. I made it there before those thieves even had time to count my money. Found them in a saloon and won it all back from them at poker. I think they scared themselves into losing. They looked at me like they’d seen a ghost. After that they hightailed it out of town fast as they could and I never saw hide nor hair of ‘em since.” Heyes finished his story to appreciative laughter and good-natured ribbing. It was the signal to break up the group and prepare to ride into town.

“Rip-roaring yarn, Smith,” said one of the men, slapping him on the back.

“You oughtta try ridin’ one o’ them antelopes, Willy,” said another. “Couldn’t do any worse than that ol’ nag o’ yours.”

“I’ll race my Dusty against your broken-down churn-head any time you say the word,” countered Willy.

Heyes caught sight of his partner and hailed him. “’Bout time you got back. Hurry and get ready. I’m anxious to get at those poker tables.”

Curry pushed away from the wall, limped over to the table, and lowered himself into a chair. He dropped his hat onto the tabletop and said, a tad sorrowfully, “Don’t think I’m gonna make it tonight. Had a little accident on the way back here.”

“You okay? What happened?” Heyes questioned with concern.

“I’m all right. Don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Took a tumble. Got some bruises and twisted my ankle is all. Think I’ll stay in and rest, though.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Heyes offered.

“No, you go on in. All I’m gonna do is sleep anyway. We’re countin’ on you to make some money, remember?”

“All right, if you’re sure,” Heyes said reluctantly. He hated to go off and leave the Kid alone and hurt, but they sure did need that bankroll. He was kind of looking forward to getting off the ranch as well.

“I’m sure,” Curry assured him. “Have a good enough time for the both of us.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Heyes affirmed.

*****

Heyes spent a very successful evening. It was getting late, or rather early, and he was thinking of calling it quits. Maybe this would be his last hand.

He examined the four fours in his hand as if he were considering his next move. In actuality he knew exactly how he was going to play it, but the pose was all part of the game. Appearing to come to a decision, he made his bet.

He glanced around the table at the other players. One of the men there had already folded. Now two others followed suit. That just left Rod Skinner, the man who had been helping Heyes round up those stray cattle earlier that day.

Rod was a short, stocky fellow with a thatch of unruly, straw-colored hair and a stolid disposition. He wasted few words and kept himself to himself, but plenty of cowpokes were the lone wolf sort. He played decent poker and his impassive expression gave little away. Rod saw Heyes’ bet and raised.

After a suitable interval to mull things over, Heyes also raised.

“Pretty sure of yourself, ain’t ye?” Rod challenged.

“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty fair hand here,” Heyes declared, undaunted.

“Not fair enough to beat mine, I reckon,” and Rod pushed forward everything he had in front of him.

Heyes regarded the pot. If he managed this right, he and the Kid might just have enough to be able to make tracks this week. There was no point in leaving until they had enough to get far enough south to get away from this winter weather. Otherwise they’d just end up in the same situation somewhere else. He decided to raise again.

Rod scowled. He obviously didn’t want to toss in what he believed to be a winning hand, but he’d used up all his resources. He looked at Heyes consideringly from under lowered brows.

“I can see your bet, but not with cash. I’ll put up my herd,” he offered.

“Your herd?” Heyes repeated in surprise.

“That’s right. I got me a small herd I’m starting up. About 15 head. You know the price of beef right now. Will you take the bet?”

Heyes turned the idea over. He didn’t want to go into the cattle business, but there were plenty of ranchers around here. Bound to be one that would take them off his hands for a fair price. He matched the value of the cattle. “Call,” he said.

“Full house,” Rod said triumphantly, laying down his cards.

“That’s a real good hand,” Heyes commented with a shake of his head.

Rod prepared to draw in the pot.

“Too bad it’s not good enough in this case,” Heyes finished, laying down his cards. “Four fours.”

Skinner looked crestfallen, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He accepted it with a good grace.

“I can show you where I got them penned on the way back to the ranch,” he proposed.

“Fine,” Heyes agreed. “In fact, think I’ll call it a night now, so we can head right out. Thanks for the game, fellas.” He nodded good-bye to the other players and he and Rod walked out of the saloon into the cold clear night.

*****

It was a cold clear morning and Heyes was checking on his new herd. He’d been satisfied it was a fair bet when Rod had shown it to him a couple of nights before. He’d informed the Kid they were now cattle barons and as soon as he could strike a bargain they’d have enough to move to warmer climes.

Rod had faced his loss without complaint, but had decided there was no more reason for him to stick around. He’d collected his pay and ridden away to make a fresh start elsewhere.

Heyes was about to head out to his day’s work when he heard a horse approaching. The rider stopped and had a long look around, at the cattle and at Heyes. Heyes had a long look, too, mostly at the tin star shining against the man’s dark vest.

The lawman nodded at Heyes. “These cattle yours?” he inquired.

Heyes was reluctant to admit the time of day before a badge, but he couldn’t see any harm in this situation so he answered truthfully. “That’s right, Sheriff.”

The sheriff didn’t comment, just continued to look over the cattle. Heyes was emboldened to add to the conversation.

“Nice little herd, wouldn’t you say? I just recently acquired it in a business transaction. Name’s Joshua Smith,” he introduced himself. “Fact is, I’m looking to sell ‘em soon as I can find a buyer. You wouldn’t be in the market yourself, would you, Sheriff?” Heyes added with a deprecating laugh.

The sheriff didn’t join in. “I’m puttin’ you under arrest, son,” he said placidly.

“Arrest? On what charge?” Heyes was flabbergasted. The sheriff hadn’t shown any signs of recognizing him, unless he had the best poker face this side of the Mississippi.

“Cattle rustlin’.” Taking his time, the sheriff got down from his horse and walked over to Heyes’.

“Cattle rustlin’? Sheriff, I done told you, I got them steers in a deal, not by stealing them!” Heyes was outraged. Being accused when he’d actually committed a robbery was one thing, but when he was innocent it was outright injustice. Why, he was pure as the snow lying lily-white all around them. He just needed to convince the sheriff of that.

“I heard what you tole me. Now climb down from that horse. I’ll be takin’ yer gun.” The sheriff held out a hand and waited patiently.

Heyes saw no recourse but to comply, but he was very vocal about it.

“Sheriff, I did not steal those cattle!” he declared as he handed over his revolver. “I came by ‘em honest.” Thinking it over, he decided to qualify this statement. “Sort of. I didn’t tell you the whole truth about that deal—it was in a poker game. I won ‘em, fair and square. Everything legal and aboveboard.”

“That so? Well, just tell me who you won ‘em from and I’ll go have a word with him.”

That brought Heyes up short. “Well, uh, he took off yesterday. Quit his job and went off to make a new start. Don’t know where he was headed.”

“Uh huh. Mighty convenient.”

“Sheriff, I’m tellin’ you the truth!” Heyes was feeling desperate. How come it was so easy to get folks to believe his tallest stories, but they wouldn’t listen to the simple truth plainly stated?

“Well now, if you are, then I suppose there was someone else in this poker game who can back up your story?” The sheriff was in no hurry to arrest the wrong man. He’d make sure of his facts first.

“Of course! There were three other fellas in the game. They can tell you what happened.” Heyes was giddy with relief. The sheriff was a reasonable man. There were witnesses. This whole misunderstanding would be cleared up in no time.

“Fine. Just tell me their names and I’ll go question them.”

Heyes’ relief was short-lived. “Their names. Right. See, that’s the thing, Sheriff. Two of ‘em was drifters. Just passin’ through town—stayin’ the night, but they aimed to leave the next day.”

“Uh huh. Let’s go.”

“No, wait! There was one more man at that poker table. Young fella, kinda skinny, with a full set of whiskers. I got the feelin’ he was from around these parts.”

The sheriff considered. “There’s a few could answer that description. I’d have to ask around.”

Heyes jumped on his hesitation. “That’s it, Sheriff. Just ask around. I’m sure you’ll find him and he’ll corroborate everything I’ve told you. I’m no cattle rustler, Sheriff,” Heyes was warming up to his tale now. Must be this cold weather that froze his tongue there for a bit. “In fact, I helped track down cattle rustlers once myself.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say. You may not believe this, Sheriff, but I was the champeen tracker in all o’ southern Utah.” Yessir, he’d have that sheriff all turned around and on his side in no time. Heyes rubbed his gloved hands together and watched their puffs of breath swirl slowly through the frosty air.

“That’s real interestin’, Mr. Smith.” The sheriff seemed impressed. Heyes bobbed his head and smiled in acknowledgment. Before he could say any more, the sheriff continued. “I’m from southern Utah myself and I never heard of you.”

Heyes was momentarily dismayed, but made a quick recovery. “Now, Sheriff, that don’t mean nuthin’. Utah’s a big state. Why, I remember once…”

The sheriff interrupted. “You can tell me all about it on the way to jail.”

“Jail? But, Sheriff…”

The sheriff cut him off, but not angrily. “Look, son, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t believe you. But somebody rustled these cattle and they’re in your possession. The way things look, I got to lock you up till I can make sure. I’ll check out your story. You’ll just have to wait in jail while I do it. Now get back up on your horse and let’s move out.”

“Yes, sir.” Heyes knew when he was licked. He’d go along peaceably—for the time being. He wasn’t happy about cooling his heels in jail for a spell, but after all he was innocent. All he had to do was to behave like a law-abiding citizen and everything would be fine. He’d just have to trust in the justice system to work things out fairly. Another time Heyes would have laughed out loud at the notion of Hannibal Heyes putting his trust in the law. Somehow, though, he wasn’t in a laughing mood.

*****

Heyes had been pacing his cell for the better part of the day when Kid Curry came charging into the sheriff’s office. Heyes and Sheriff Oates had stopped by the ranchhouse to let them know they’d be short one ranch hand for a while, but the Kid had already departed for his scheduled work and wouldn’t be returning till day’s end. It was a big ranch and it didn’t seem practical, or necessary, to send someone after him. He’d hear the bad news soon enough.

Their employers were sympathetic and told the sheriff Heyes had been a good worker, but of course they couldn’t vouch for the poker game. The sheriff questioned them about Skinner, but they couldn’t tell him any more than Heyes had. They did mention that Skinner and Heyes had been assigned the same work details. The sheriff looked thoughtful, but didn’t say anything beyond wishing the ranchers a good day.

Heyes didn’t much like that look. He had no trouble guessing what the sheriff was thinking and he voiced his objections as soon as they were alone again.

“Sheriff, just because I worked with Skinner don’t mean I rustled cattle with him, if he was the one done the rustlin’, which looks likely. ‘Sides, I already got a partner—Jones, the fella I left the message for.”

“Who’s to say there weren’t three of you in on it?”

“What? Sheriff, for one thing, I’ve hardly seen Thaddeus since we started working that ranch. The foreman has been sending us on separate jobs. You know that’s the way it works on a ranch; we go where the foreman says. So we haven’t had a chance to do any rustlin’ together. For another, I’d hope three men could rustle more cattle than that measly bunch in that amount of time.” He sounded insulted.

“Don’t git yourself all worked up over it,” said the sheriff. “You made your point.”

“I should hope so.”

“You coulda just double-crossed your partner when you saw a good thing come along.”

“I wouldn’t double-cross my own partner!” Heyes was insulted again.

“It’s been known to happen,” the sheriff observed, “but if you’re fixin’ ta tell me why it wouldn’t, don’t bother. Not much point in either of us doing all this guessin’. Might’s well wait till I dig up some witnesses and see what they got to say.”

So the sheriff deposited Heyes in the jail and went out to see what he could find.

Curry had rushed straight over as soon as he’d heard what had happened. The deputy took custody of his gun and let him into Heyes’ cell for a visit.

The two men just looked at each other for a moment. Then, “I hear I’ve been double-crossed,” Curry said lightly.

“That’s what I hear, too,” Heyes agreed morosely and dropped onto his cot.

The Kid sat down on the cot opposite his friend’s. “Tell me the whole story,” he invited.

Heyes told him everything. “The sheriff’s been in and out during the day. The bartender at the saloon told him the kid with the bushy whiskers at the poker table wasn’t a regular. He didn’t know him. The sheriff’s been asking around with no luck yet. Looks like my luck’s running out, too.” Heyes attempted a faint smile.

“It’s early days to be givin’ up on it just yet,” the Kid counseled him. “This sheriff doesn’t seem all bad. Sounds like he was almost ready to believe you there, if you hadn’t pushed your story just that one extra bit over the edge with that old champion tracker routine.”

“What do you mean, routine? I’ll have you know…”

“Yeah, Heyes, I’ve heard it all before.” The Kid stood up and regarded his partner with amusement lurking in his good-natured blue eyes. “The trouble with you, Heyes, is you talk a good line, but you don’t know when to shut up.”

“Let’s see if you still say that the next time you need me to talk your way out of some trouble.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Meanwhile, don’t worry. That kid’ll turn up and it’ll all work out. If he don’t, we’ll come up with something.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one locked in here.”

The Kid looked around the small cell. It was plain, but he’d seen worse. “Oh, I dunno. It’s not too uncomfortable. And it gets you outta riding around the ranch in the snow. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you set all this up.”

“Kid, only you’d come up with a plan to get outta work by gettin’ thrown in jail.”

“Well, if I can’t come up with a better one than that, then you are in trouble. You’d better start thinking one up yourself, just in case.”

The Kid figured that was enough to put Heyes on his mettle so he’d stop feeling sorry for himself and start thinking of a way out. Heyes must have figured the same thing because he just grinned at his friend.

The Kid voiced a regret. “I only wish I’d come into town with you that night. If I’d been there…” Curry had been right about his injuries. They’d been minor and he was already over them. He was feeling a little guilty about coddling himself over nothing.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference, Kid. The sheriff wouldn’t take my partner’s word without something more to back it up, even if you had been at the game. You’re not exactly an impartial witness. Sheriff Oates was even leaning toward suspecting you of involvement in the rustling till I talked him out of it.”

The Kid prepared to leave. The deputy came over and unlocked the cell door to let him out.

“Do you know how long my friend has before a trial?” Curry asked him.

“Judge Meyerlink is due in town next week. They’ll probably hold it then,” the deputy informed them.

“Did you say Meyerlink?” Heyes asked. He was up off the cot and walking over to the door before the words were out of his mouth. He grasped two of the bars as if for support.

On the other side of the bars, Curry was gripping one, too. “Judge Ogden Meyerlink?” he specified, in case there was more than one Judge Meyerlink in this territory.

“That’s right. He’s the circuit judge in these parts. Comes round regular.”

Heyes and Curry looked at each other like they’d just heard a sentence of doom. Curry took a deep breath.

“All right, Joshua,” he said. “We got one week.”

“One week,” Heyes agreed.

There was nothing more to say. The Kid left the jail.

*****

The Kid headed straight for the saloon. He needed a drink. The situation had just gone from having all the time they needed to work things out to a one-week deadline to get out of town.

The problem was, they knew Judge Ogden Meyerlink. Even worse, Judge Meyerlink knew them. He would recognize Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry immediately and undoubtedly not harbor any kind feelings towards them. The judge didn’t like outlaws, especially not outlaws who broke out of a jail he’d put them in and robbed the bank on their way out of town. That was a long time ago now, before they’d given up their outlaw ways and started trying for an amnesty from the governor, but the Kid had a feeling the judge would not have forgotten them. He had to get Heyes out of that jail before the judge arrived. But how?

He couldn’t just bust him out. Not that that wouldn’t be a fairly easy task for him to do, but then Joshua Smith would be wanted for cattle rustling. Both the governor and their sponsor, Sheriff Lom Trevors, would take a dim view of their starting a whole new record under their aliases while they were still trying to keep their existing records clean.

He didn’t think he could come up with the real guilty party either. Rod Skinner was undoubtedly long gone by now. He would have made good and sure to cover his trail, too. They’d never find him, except for a miracle, and the Kid would rather trust in himself and Heyes than in miracles.

He also didn’t think Heyes could just talk himself out of this one. He’d already tried that with the sheriff and it hadn’t worked. This sheriff wanted more than a fancy story. This sheriff wanted evidence.

That just left the missing witness. The two drifters had vanished as completely as Skinner. They could be anyplace. It would take more time than they had to track them down. The one player left, though, the boy with the beard, might still be around. If only they could find him in time.

The Kid drained the last of his beer and set down his mug. He hardly had time to look around before a pretty blonde waitress was setting a full glass down in front of him. He looked up at her, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“You looked like you’d be wanting another,” she explained as she joined him at the table.

“It’s that obvious, huh?” queried the Kid, without much surprise.

“In my business, you get so you recognize that look,” she smiled. “Wanta talk about it?”

“A friend’s in trouble and I’m having a hard time helping him out,” the Kid revealed.

“Just havin’ a friend to worry about him’s some help,” she consoled him. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? That’s what I’m here for.”

The Kid sipped at his beer and considered. Actually this would be a good place to start asking questions, since this was where the unlucky poker game took place. So he told her the whole sad story and described the missing man as best he could from what Heyes had told him.

“I think I remember the boy you mean,” said Greta, as she’d introduced herself. “He put me in mind of Balthasar.”

“Is that someone who lives around here?” asked the Kid, puzzling over the strange-sounding name.

“I expect so, but I don’t really know who he is.”

“But you know his name…”

“Oh, that’s not really his name,” Greta contradicted Curry’s statement. “That was the part he was playing. In the pageant.”

“Pageant?”

“Yes, the Christmas pageant. At the church.” Greta blushed and lowered her eyes. “I don’t go to church regular. But there’s just something about Christmastime. I remember what it was like when I was little. I wanted to go and I figured maybe no one would say anything or make me leave, it bein’ Christmas and all. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice me in the crowd. I slipped in late and sat in back, so I couldn’t see that well, but that boy that was in here Saturday night kinda reminded me of one of the three wise men. He was all decked out in fancy robes in church so I can’t be sure; maybe it was just the whiskers. There was a look about him, though.”

“The whiskers… costumes… I wonder.” The Kid got a faraway look in his eyes. “You said he was the one playing Ball… Ball-so-far?”

“Balthasar,” Greta corrected. “I’m afraid I don’t really know which wise man was which. It’s just what I called him. He could have been one of the other two.”

“Still, it helps. Thanks, Greta. You’ve given me a place to start.” The Kid smiled gratefully.

“Anytime, handsome,” Greta answered somewhat wistfully. “Your partner’s lucky to have such a good friend on his side.”

“I hope it’s enough. He needs all the luck he can get right now.” Curry finished his beer and said goodnight. He was going to have a long day ahead of him tomorrow.

*****

The next day was a long one for Heyes. He spent it pacing round and round his cell while his thoughts circled round and round in his head. It wasn’t long before he was intimately familiar with every square inch of that space. He knew every spot of rust on every bar, every mark scratched into the wall by every previous tenant, every lump in the worn mattress.

A visit from the Kid would have been a welcome diversion, but he didn’t show. Heyes figured he must be working. Heartily bored with his own company and longing to talk to someone, anyone, he struck up a conversation with the only other person present. The deputy was only too willing to pass the time holding forth to a captive audience. Once he got started, Heyes could no more stop him than he could walk out the door that locked him in so securely. He heard more about Lester and his sweetheart Edith than anyone other than the apparently deliriously happy and completely besotted couple could ever possibly have wanted to know. When Lester finally left him alone briefly in order to go collect their supper, Heyes just lay back and let the blessed quiet wash over him. So much for the Kid’s notion that his incarceration might make a nice rest. A deputy like that definitely came under the heading of cruel and unusual punishment.

He hadn’t eaten much during the day, but he took an interest when Lester returned with supper. Either his hunger was finally catching up with him or else he was so bored anything would look good to him. Besides, presumably Lester wouldn’t talk with his mouth full, so he could enjoy the meal in peace.

“Passed your partner Jones on my way back here,” the deputy said, preparing to dig in. “He sure was in a hurry.”

“Thaddeus? A hurry? Coming here?” Heyes looked up from the dishes, half expecting to see Curry walking in the door.

“Naw, he was headed the other way.”

“Hm. Wonder why he didn’t stop by.” Heyes decided he must have a good reason for not visiting. He couldn’t actually have a plan, could he? If he did, Heyes hoped he’d check it out with him before acting on it. He wasn’t confident the Kid’s ideas were too reliable. Not that he’d been able to come up with anything workable himself yet.

“He’s been running around town all day,” the deputy continued. “Trying to get together a sleighing party. That’s probably where he was heading just now. I sure wisht I didn’t have to work so’s I could take Edith.”

Heyes almost choked on his coffee. “A sleighing party?!” He was locked in jail in imminent peril of being sent to prison for twenty years and his partner was organizing winter sports? Either circumstances had finally pushed the Kid over the edge or he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. Heyes passed his dishes back to the confused deputy.

“Ain’t you gonna eat any of it?”

“Funny thing, but I seem to have lost my appetite.”

*****

The Kid had indeed had a busy day. He knew the sheriff was already running around from person to person, asking questions and getting nowhere. The Kid needed a different method. The quickest way he could think of to talk to all the church pageant participants was to round them all up for another group activity. A sleigh ride was the fastest winter social event he could throw together on the spur of the moment.

If he was right about one of the pageant wise men coming to the saloon to play poker in disguise, then the witness had a reason for keeping his identity secret and wasn’t about to step forward. The sheriff was operating on the assumption that he simply had to find the right party and it was just a matter of time. It hadn’t occurred to him that the witness might be hiding from him on purpose.

That being the case, just tracking down the man wouldn’t be enough. Somehow the Kid was going to have to persuade him to speak out when he obviously did not want to. The Kid wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish this, persuading being more in Heyes’ line, but somehow he would have to. First, though, he had to identify him.

His first task of the morning was to inform his employers he was taking the day off. Without actually saying it outright, he managed to convey the impression that the sheriff had requested his help. The Kid knew he wasn’t as talented at inventing stories as Heyes was, but he was amazed to find how much invention people were willing to supply themselves if he let them draw their own conclusions. Maybe he couldn’t come up with the right words the way Heyes could, but if he could get people to come up with some of their own, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

His next task was to ride into town and pay a call on a certain young lady of his acquaintance.

“Why, Thaddeus, what a lovely surprise! Do come in.”

Curry had first met Lucy when she’d made a visit to the ranch. He’d since spent some time with her on his subsequent visits to town on his days off. Lucy was from a respectable and church-going family, pillars of the community, and she could generally be found at the center of Harmony’s little social whirl. She was the very person to take charge of organizing the Kid’s sleighing party.

She was delighted with his idea and cajoled him into staying for lunch so they could discuss particulars. They planned the route to a small pond where they would have a bonfire and a picnic under the stars. Lucy enthusiastically embraced the myriad details of preparation. She guaranteed attendance by all the young people in town and cordially invited the Kid to ride in her family’s sleigh. He graciously accepted and left her to her plans while he went off to take care of his share of the groundwork, which included riding out to the site to collect wood and build a bonfire ready to light. He didn’t have a moment to spare to visit Heyes and besides, he didn’t want to get Heyes’ hopes up until he was sure this would lead somewhere.

It was a merry procession that wound from the town into the countryside that evening. The musical tinkling of a multitude of sleigh bells filled the clear air. The Kid was enjoying cuddling with Lucy under a warm robe for its own sake, but didn’t lose sight of his main purpose.

He had spent some time that afternoon in ferreting out the names of the pageant wise men and ensuring they would all be joining in the evening’s festivities. He had Lucy point them out to him as soon as they arrived at the picnic site.

One was an older man with a full set of his own quite genuine whiskers. Another had a clean-shaven face, but a strapping build which conflicted with the description. The Kid eliminated both of them as candidates. The third, however, fit the bill very well indeed. He was a fairly tall, lean lad who likely couldn’t grow much of a beard yet if he tried and definitely would have had need of a false one for the pageant. Furthermore, he appeared to have a clear motive for not wanting it known he was frequenting a saloon and a poker game. He was Gilbert Holloway, the minister’s son.

The Kid could well imagine there would be hell to pay if the boy’s father or the good townsfolk learned of his Saturday night excursion into the dens of iniquity. It would do Curry no good to simply confront the lad; he’d only deny it. He’d have to come up with an incentive for Gilbert to want to come clean. With his upbringing, he must have a conscience. Perhaps the Kid could make him feel guilty enough to confess.

Everyone gathered around the bonfire in little groups to eat their picnic supper. The Kid made sure that he and Lucy were settled in the same group as young Holloway.

The chatter meandered this way and that. The Kid let it flow naturally for a while, then steered it casually to the subject of Heyes’ plight.

“Mr. Smith seems like such a charming gentleman. I’m sure he had nothing to do with the crime,” Lucy declared sympathetically.

“I wish the sheriff shared your feelings, Lucy,” said the Kid. “He seems to have the silly notion he needs hard evidence, though.”

“But surely Mr. Smith will be found innocent and freed if there’s no proof against him,” Gilbert interjected.

The Kid gave him a steady look. “I wish it were that clear-cut. But he was found in possession of the stolen cattle and the sheriff thinks he’s lying about the poker game.” Curry felt it couldn’t hurt to exaggerate the sheriff’s suspicions a bit. “If he doesn’t find the missing witness, I’m afraid it doesn’t look good for Joshua’s chances of staying out of prison.”

Lucy shuddered delicately. “I hate to think of him being locked up like that. It’s so unjust, so cruel.”

“It’s worse than that. If Joshua’s sentenced to a prison term, it might as well be a death sentence.”

“What do you mean?” It was Gilbert’s startled voice.

“It’s the spiders,” Curry confided. “If it weren’t for the spiders, he might have a chance, but he’ll not abide the spiders.”

“What spiders are those?” asked Lucy hesitantly, unsure she really wanted to know the answer.

“Why, the spiders in the territorial prison,” the Kid explained. “The place is infested with them. I hear they grow to a fearsome size, big as a man’s fist. Most of the prisoners get used to having ‘em underfoot or else they learn how to butcher ‘em. They’ve even come up with some original recipes. I take it any kind of meat’s a welcome addition to that prison diet.”

Curry ignored Lucy’s low gasp and continued relentlessly. Without staring, he nevertheless kept a constant watch to make sure he had Holloway’s undivided attention. He had to make Heyes’ fate sound so unbelievably ghastly that the boy couldn’t help but speak out to save him. The Kid drew on every memory of every time Heyes had effortlessly persuaded someone that black was white. It came so natural to Heyes. The Kid knew he wasn’t in his partner’s league, but somehow he had to make the bluff work. The stakes in this game were twenty years of Heyes’ life.

“Joshua won’t be able to put up with it, though,” he said, “because of an incident that happened to him years ago. He’s never gotten over it.”

“What happened?” Gilbert asked, unable to help himself.

“You’ve heard it said killing spiders can bring bad luck?” The Kid waited for their murmurs of assent and then continued.

“Joshua didn’t believe in such superstition until he happened to kill a spider one day when he was a boy. He didn’t give it a second thought, just went out to play. He was climbing a tree when a branch broke and crashed to the ground carrying him with it. He broke an arm and a leg. He still wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he hadn’t seen a spider crawling off the branch onto the ground and walking away.”

The Kid paused and glanced around. His listeners were hanging on his every word. He was beginning to see what satisfaction Heyes got from his storytelling. It was a heady experience to see folks so strongly influenced by no more than his words. He sipped his coffee and picked up where he’d left off.

“The odd thing about that spider was that it was white. Little Joshua somehow took it into his head that that white spider was the ghost of the spider he’d killed, come back to take revenge. Ever since then, he’s had a horror of all spiders. And the worst thing about the ones in prison ain’t even their size.”

He looked around again at the circle of rapt faces. The tension they were all feeling was a connection binding them to each other and to the words they were drinking in, as they absorbed the story from outside themselves to become a part of them, to interact with their dreams and their fears. Gilbert seemed to be scarcely breathing.

“It ain’t?” someone asked fearfully. No one turned to see who had spoken. All eyes remained transfixed on the Kid.

“No, it ain’t,” the Kid confirmed. “It’s their color. Living in that dark prison like that, away from any light, their natural color has just bleached away.” The Kid addressed his next words directly to Gilbert. “The prison spiders are white.”

Gilbert’s eyes widened at this horrifying revelation. The Kid watched him closely.

“Joshua will be sure those white spiders are ghost spiders come back to haunt him. He won’t be able to endure being locked in with them. He’s already said if they try to put him in there he’ll run away. They’ll shoot him for trying to escape. He’ll never make it out alive.”

Gilbert opened his mouth. The Kid tensed, waiting. It was Gilbert’s move: call, raise, or fold. Gilbert closed his mouth and swallowed. The moment passed.

A restlessness seemed to move in a wave over the gathering. Before anyone could speak, a crack like a gunshot thundered across the pond. Kid Curry was on his feet, his gun drawn, before the second crack sounded.

The sounds came from the frozen pond. As the Kid looked out across the ice he saw, not a gunman, but a young boy trying to make his way back to shore as the ice cracked beneath his feet. As the picnickers watched, horrified, the cracks opened up and the boy splashed into the icy water below.

“Christian! No-o-o!” came the strangled cry from beside Curry, and Gilbert Holloway shot past him headed straight for the ice. Curry swiftly holstered his gun and ran after him, overtaking him just as he was about to step out onto the pond. He leaped at him, pushing him to the ground. The two men wrestled on the frozen shore.

“My brother! Let me go!” shouted Gilbert, frantically struggling against the Kid’s powerful grip.

“Not unless you want to get your brother killed!” insisted the Kid, giving Holloway a shake to make him listen.

Gilbert stopped struggling. The Kid sat up and tore off his jacket, talking all the while.

“You can’t walk out there,” he instructed. “You’ll only make the break worse and you’ll both fall in. If you want to save your brother, get down on your belly, follow me, and hold onto my ankles. Don’t lose contact with solid ground.”

Pushing his jacket before him, the Kid wriggled out onto the ice. Gilbert followed, his arms straining as he grasped Curry’s boots. They could hear the boy splashing and calling for help. The Kid reached as far as he could and, holding his jacket by one sleeve, he flung it towards the edge of the hole. It didn’t quite reach.

“I need to get further out!” he called back. The boy’s cries were getting weaker. There wasn’t much time. He wouldn’t last long in that freezing water.

The rest of the crowd had by this time run to the shore as well. One of the men knelt down by Gilbert to add his length to the human chain. Gilbert slid out onto the ice, enabling the Kid to move closer to the hole. He dangled his jacket into the water.

“Grab hold! We’ll pull you out!” he yelled to the frightened youngster.

When the Kid felt the boy’s weight pulling on the jacket, he began to haul it in. “Pull us in!” he called to the men behind him. Slowly he began to move back over the ice. Suddenly the jacket stopped moving out of the water as if it were snagged. “Stop!” he called over his shoulder. The backward movement stopped.

“I can’t hang on. It’s too cold,” he heard the young boy whimpering.

“Sure you can. You can do it,” the Kid encouraged him. He searched his memory for the name Gilbert had called. “Christian. Christian, right? You don’t wanna let your brother down. He’s right here pulling for you.”

“My fingers… they’re so cold,” came the faint reply.

“Then wrap the sleeve around your arms. Tight now. Got it? Here we go.”

They began to pull again and this time the jacket moved steadily up and out until the Kid was able to reach out, grasp the boy’s arms, and pull him free. Then the process went more quickly and they were soon standing safely on shore, the Kid handing the shivering young Christian into his brother’s arms.

“Chris! Oh, Chris, are you all right?” his brother sobbed.

“J-just c-c-cold,” came the stuttered response.

One of the women ran up with some blankets. The doctor, who was also present, began issuing instructions. “Get him out of those wet clothes before you wrap him up. Let’s move him closer to the fire.”

Gilbert handed his brother into their care. He laid a hand on the Kid’s arm to hold him back as the others moved back to the bonfire.

“You saved my brother’s life,” he acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have thought what to do so quickly. Thank you.”

“Just some outdoor know-how. But you’re welcome.” The Kid waited. He sensed there was more. He was right.

“Mr. Jones, I…” Gilbert looked away, then down, then determinedly back at Curry. “I’m the witness the sheriff is looking for. I saw your friend win those cattle in that poker game.”

The Kid folded his arms. “Well now,” he said, “I’m mighty glad to hear that. That is, if you’re willing to come say the same thing to the sheriff.”

Gilbert nodded. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I’d go now, but I need to see my brother home.”

“I understand. The morning will do just fine. Why don’t we go see how the boy’s doing?”

They walked side by side towards the fire.

*****

They walked together into the sheriff’s office the next morning. The Kid had stopped in the night before, but the deputy had insisted the hour was too late for a visit (Heyes thought Lester was just miffed that Edith had gone on the sleigh ride without him). The Kid barely had time to tell Heyes that everything was okay before Lester shut the office door in his face. At least he was able to set Heyes’ mind at rest so he didn’t have to spend another night wondering about his fate. The rest of the story could wait.

Gilbert stood steadfastly in front of the sheriff now and told him what he’d told the Kid the night before. He’d used the false beard he’d worn in the Christmas pageant to visit the saloon in secret, out of a natural boyish curiosity, and then hadn’t dared to admit where he’d been because of his father’s reaction, not to mention the congregation’s. He couldn’t stand by, however, and let an innocent man suffer so dreadfully for something Gilbert knew he hadn’t done, just to hide his foolish adventure.

When he’d heard what Gilbert had to say, the sheriff took down the keys and unlocked the door to let Heyes go free.

“I’m satisfied you weren’t involved,” he said. “There’s no need to put this before the circuit court. I’ll put a wanted notice out on Skinner, but it’s any odds whether he’ll ever turn up.”

“Sheriff, does this mean I won’t have to go to court to testify? My father doesn’t have to find out? Or anyone else?”

“Don’t see as it needs to go outside this office,” Oates reassured the boy.

“That’s wonderful news! Thank you. Thank you.” Gilbert shook hands vigorously all around.

Heyes said, “Thank you for speaking up. It took guts, under the circumstances.”

Gilbert looked embarrassed but pleased at the compliment. “I’m glad I could help before it was too late. And I’m sure someday you’ll get over the spiders, too.” He left in a happy rush, leaving a bewildered Heyes looking blankly at Curry.

“Spiders?” he asked.

“It’s a long story. Tell it to you later,” his friend promised.

Heyes had to be satisfied with that for now. He collected his gunbelt from the sheriff, who wished him luck. “No hard feelings, Sheriff. Oh, and tell Lester I said good-bye and I hope he works things out with Edith.”

The two friends walked out into the morning sunshine.

“I sure am glad you turned him up,” Heyes remarked, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He could almost see it sparkling in the sunlight. Funny how new and bright everything looked after his confinement. He looked speculatively at Curry. “The deputy said something about a sleighing party. I can’t wait to hear how that ties in with hunting down my witness.”

The Kid thought about the previous evening. He had always seen himself as more a man of action than of words, and when it came right down to it, he guessed it was his actions rather than his words that finally won them the jackpot. “Heyes, I may not have your imagination or your silver tongue, but I can come up with a few tricks of my own when I need to.”

“I don’t think the world is ready for two Hannibal Heyes’, Kid,” his friend comforted him. “I’d just as soon you didn’t trade your talents in for mine. Whaddya say we collect our things from the ranch and hit the road? Even without any sale money from those dang cattle, we got enough to get started now and I’d like to be well away from here before the judge gets in the vicinity. You can tell me your story on the way.”

“Sure thing, Heyes. Though you know I’m not much of a one for storytelling.”

THE END


End file.
